


Scarred

by Amelita



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 03:06:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7082638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amelita/pseuds/Amelita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Where you tend a rose my lad, a thistle cannot grow.”<br/>― Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scarred

Come see me on facebook to see where all my old things have gone! <https://www.facebook.com/amelitarae>

 

 

The carriage swayed back and forth rhythmically with the movement of the horses and the rocky terrain. At times, it leaned somewhat precariously to one side or the other, but luckily for the occupant inside, the night was so black he could not see how close they were to the edge of a craggy cliff. The driver held the only light and its beam only extended a few feet in either direction.

Fortunately, the horses knew where they were going, and their footing was sure and swift for they knew they were close to home. They were eagerly headed to the warmth of their stable, to a soft bed of hay, a soothing brush-down and perhaps a carrot or maybe even a few sugar lumps. The crabby carriage driver spared nary a pleasant word or deed for any human animal, but he was never short of kindness for the four-legged variety.

The horse hooves moved from the dirt road and loudly clattered over stone. The transition was jarring. It woke the occupant of the carriage from where he sat half awake and half asleep. He had been in that state for quite sometime. There had been nothing to entertain the boy even from before the night fell. The entire afternoon had been spent crossing a dreary moor, grey and bare from the winter. There was nothing to see but endless miles of dead grass and flat land. When he leaned far out the window, he could see rugged mountains in the distance, but then the cabby yelled at him for rocking the carriage so Akihito kept his head inside and dozed.

Moments after the horses hooves clattered, the carriage wheels jolted and jumped as the carriage bumped from the dirt path onto a stone road. Akihito’s head popped out the carriage window again in hopes of catching a glimpse of the manor where he was to spend the next year of his life.

There was only the barest sliver of a moon to light the way and it disappeared once they entered an enormous archway of tall trees. Like sentries they seemed to lean over the carriage, inspecting it for threat, long gnarled fingers reached for it. Akihito pressed himself back in the seat with a gasp. It took him a few moments to work up the courage to look outside again.

The mansion was finally in view. It too, loomed enormous and dark and seemed to Akihito to be as large and as tall as the mountains that surrounded it. At first, it seemed that there were no lights but then Akihito noticed a few candles flickering in the lower level.

The carriage pulled round to make a stop in front of a set of massive doors. There was jagged iron trim along the top and bottom that made the doors seem as though they had teeth and might gobble him up if he came too close. Akihito just sat and stared for he was too frightened to move.

The horses stamped impatiently, the harnesses jingled and the driver groused at him, “Be off with ye then!”

Akihito gathered up his small valise and hugged his threadbare coat tighter to his waist as he stepped from the relatively warm of the carriage and out into the blustery night. Wind gusted and pushed the weight of his suitcase about as if it were a thief trying to rip his meager belongings from his hand.

Almost as soon as his foot was free of the carriage, it started forward again as if it couldn’t wait to leave him behind. The young man had to restrain himself from running desperately after it. It was not that he was so eager to stay near the unpleasant cabby, but simply that he seemed to be the only other person in this desolate place.

Instead, he watched the carriage disappear into the dark and the horse steps get fainter and fainter until they were gone and he was all alone. When he turned around, the doors seemed more ominous than ever but, determined not to let his imagination get the best of him, he drew a deep breath, marched right up to them and knocked twice.

The sound of his fist on the door was startling. The echo was deafening and the reverberation just seemed to get louder the longer time stretched on. Finally, it died off and Akihito was left standing there feeling somehow both foolish and terrified. The wind gusted again and it felt as though someone had shoved him forward. His left leg was stiff from long hours of disuse and crumpled under him. He lost his balance, caught himself on the door but then suddenly, the door opened. He landed sprawled on his belly in the entryway. His suitcase went flying. A pair of shined shoes stepped neatly out of the way.

Akihito lay there in a stun for a moment, trying to get his wind back. He rolled humiliated to his back and sat up. A tall man carrying a candelabra peered down at him over the rim of a pair of oval glasses. His lips were pursed as though he had recently eaten something sour.

“Takaba Akihito I presume?”

“Yes,” Akihito gasped and fumbled for his feet and his suitcase. He stood shakily, just in time to see the butler moving quickly away from him down a long, vaulted hallway.

“Follow me please,” he said.

Akihito did as he was told, clutching his case to his chest like a shield as he padded timidly down a long, dark hall filled with suits of armor that to him seemed like they might come to life at any moment and attack. They were posed ominously with swords and spears and maces with their upraised hands as if the middle of bludgeoning some poor hapless victim. He thought he saw one of them move, gasped and raced up to get closer to the flickering light of the candle.

The butler eyed him suspiciously over his shoulder and then turned forward again. He made turn after turn, down this hallway and that, up one flight of stairs and then another and another until finally he stopped in front of a small door. He wordlessly handed the candelabra to Akihito who held it in a trembling hand. The light flickered as the old man thumbed through an enormous ring of keys until he found the right one, slipped it in the mouth of the keyhole and turned it with a click. The door fell open at a touch to reveal a sparse, but cozy room. There was a bed made up with a fluffy pillow and a thick, down coverlet. There was a dressing stool and a desk and chair, a coatrack and from it hung a pressed black uniform identical to the one the butler was wearing, but much smaller. Akihito was grateful to see a fire burning merrily in the hearth and on the desk, a tray of food and a teapot.

The butler sniffed, “The tea is likely tepid by now. You are quite late.”

“I apologize, you see it was-” Akihito began, but was cut off.

“No matter. You are here now and that is all that matters. I come to get you at dawn, just as the light breaks. You are not to leave this room until then. The Master will be most displeased to have you wandering aimlessly about the manor at night. I’ll expect you to be dressed and ready to begin your training when I come to fetch you, is that understood?”

“Yes sir,” Akihito said, still clutching his valise to his body.

The old man’s faced gentled a bit, “Good. Well then, my name is Kirishima Kei. I am head steward, and besides the groundskeeper and stable master whom you have already met, I am the only other servant here. And now there is you. Sleep well.”

And with that somehow curt, but cordial greeting, the butler placed the candelabra on the table and melted in the darkness behind the doorway. It seemed he needed no light to find his way.

Akihito took his suitcase and unpacked his meager belongings into a small dresser. He undressed quickly and climbed into his night clothes and beneath the covers. He ate his dinner and drank his tea from beneath them. His only comfort was the flickering flame of the candle. At loathe to blow it out, he was even more at loathe to waste the candle. Only once the wax melted and began to run down the stalk did he finally lean over and blow out the flame. Smoke curled towards the ceiling so far over his head. Moonlight shined through the window. He had never seen a moon so large. It seemed closer than it should.

He lay for a long, long time staring up at it and listening to the wind blow across the empty moor. There were times when he felt certain it was mimicking the sound of a human voice, moaning and even screaming at times. He thought to himself that he had never heard anything more desolate sounding in his life.

Thus had begun Takaba Akihito’s strange, and mysterious tenure at Sion Manor.


End file.
